


First Meeting

by Long_Time_QT



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson Bashing, Anderson admires Sherlock, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Season/Series 03, Sherlock is a Brat, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Long_Time_QT/pseuds/Long_Time_QT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson wants to work with Sherlock, but things don't go according to plan</p><p>or</p><p>How I imagine Sherlock and Anderson would have met for the first time since watching the promo for series three</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meeting

Anderson could barely contain his excitement as he stood outside DI Lestrade’s office. He’d spent weeks, maybe months researching, listening to stories of other people, and waiting for an opportunity to meet him. After all that time, it was finally happening. He was going to work with the great Sherlock Holmes.

He checked his watch eagerly. Lestrade had texted him nearly forty minutes ago, what could be taking him so long? He heard doors open and his breath nearly caught in his chest. There, his hero, Sherlock Holmes, was in the flesh, all coat and sharp eyes. He put on his best smile and approached the man as he hurried toward the office.

“Mr. Holmes?” Anderson said, stepping into the detective’s path. The man huffed and met Anderson’s gaze with a bit of irritation.

“Yes, obviously, what do you want?”

“Anderson, I work in forensics. It’s such an honour to meet you!” He held out his hand and Sherlock took it with hesitation, slowly shaking it.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Sherlock retracted his hand and put it in his pocket, “Now are you going to tell me what it is you want or are we just going to stand here trapped in awkward conversation?”

Rude, but understandable. Sherlock’s mind was brilliant, much like Anderson’s own, and couldn’t be bothered with the trivial matters of pleasantries. Anderson supposed he could get used to it as long as they were on the same page.

“I’ll get right to the point then. I want to work with you.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“I think we’d make a great team. With our combined intellect, we would be a force to be reckoned with. I know you obviously wouldn’t take just anyone as your business partner, but I’m not just anyone. I’ve studied your methods, checked your website, and I’m your equal in logic. We could be brilliant together, you and I.”

Sherlock smiled, his eyes crinkling as he clasped his hands behind his back. This was it, Anderson was so in!

“Alright," Sherlock's grin grew mischievous, "put that ‘intellect’ you claim to have to use. Deduce what you can based on my current appearance. If I deem your deductions adequate, you can work with me. Go on.”

Anderson let his eyes rove over Sherlock’s form. This was a bit of a challenge.

“Well, your shoes have dirt on them so obviously you were out and about today. You have a brother–“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Sherlock said, smile dissolving into a condescending expression. “Prior research, while helpful, is not solely used in deduction. One cannot rely only on the easily available information. Where was I ‘out and about’? How did you deduce my brother’s existence from my appearance? I have no indicators on my person out of sheer unwillingness to acknowledge his existence and therefore you cannot have fulfilled the parameters of the challenge. Inadequate responses. Excuse me, gotta dash.” He swerved around a shocked and insulted Anderson.

“Wait, hang on,” Anderson turned to face Sherlock’s retreating form. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. “You didn’t give me a proper chance. I made deductions–“ Sherlock chuckled and paused, looking back to Anderson.

“If you can call those deductions. I call it stating the painfully obvious.”

“You didn’t give me ample time!” Anderson said, voice shaking with anger and the sting of rejection, “besides, you aren’t a crime scene, there’s no way I can deduce much about you.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes and looked Anderson over with a quick glance.

“I know you’re married. Your wife is devoted but you don’t appreciate her, evident by the fact that you’re in the midst of an affair. Two, actually. Both women live in separate parts of London. The mistress you saw today lives near Rosemary Gardens. You carry yourself like you’re better than others when in fact you were only just above the average in school and shunned by your peers, which is likely the root cause of your superiority complex. Ego can be such a fragile thing. You use a blade as opposed to an electric razor, and you don’t floss. Now unless you consider yourself a crime scene, you will leave me alone and stop putting us on the same level.”

Anderson let out a huff of indignation and glared at his so-called hero.

“Hold on a minute.”

“Did I get something wrong?”

“Well, no, not really, but there’s no way to know all that just by looking. You researched me, didn’t you?”

Sherlock’s face contorted into a smug, shit-eating grin.

“Believe what you like, it doesn’t matter to me. But a word of advice, make sure you know who you’re dealing with and don’t let that narcissism of yours cloud your judgment.” Sherlock turned to walk away again only to pause to look over his shoulder, “By the way, you might want to go out and check your car. Seems one of your girlfriends found out about the other and left a rather unsightly crack in your windshield. Yours is the Prius, is it not?”

As Sherlock retreated, Anderson stalked off to see if his car really was damaged, cursing the man. Couldn’t he just see that Sherlock needed him? He just didn’t understand yet. They could be brilliant. He’d see one day. He would. Anderson would make him see. He would prove himself to this difficult man. He could make Sherlock so much better.


End file.
